


Hook

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 23:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel sees a reason to stay.
Relationships: Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Hook

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a strange feeling, to be _alive_ again, and sometimes Glorfindel finds himself drifting through the gardens of Imladris in a daze. He still has yet to meet all of Lord Elrond’s staff and all the many guests, because Imladris is large for what it is, yet so much infinitely smaller than the grand cities Glorfindel is used to. As lovely as Lord Elrond’s home is, it could never compete with the wonders Glorfindel once knew. Though he knows he’s been brought back for a higher purpose, his heart still fills with sadness. He knows that he won’t fade—he doesn’t have that luxury. But some evenings, he feels close. There just isn’t anything in Middle Earth that can still inspire him. 

He pauses at several of the flowers that he passes, trying to see the art in their silken petals. But even those gifts have lost their interest. He kneels down to trace the curves of a crimson rose, but it stirs no feelings him. When he rises, he hears hushed voices across the way. 

“I have finished the East Wing’s inventory,” Lindir is saying—Glorfindel recognizes him easily, for he always seems to be at Lord Elrond’s side. The elf that he’s speaking to emerges from behind the white gazebo, and it’s someone Glorfindel hasn’t seen before.

He would certainly remember that beauty. He freezes as the figure drifts fully into view, speaking low and soft to Lindir, who bows low and murmurs, “Thank you, Erestor.” ‘Erestor’ nods his pretty head, and Lindir retreats, meandering back into the sprawling structure of Lord Elrond’s home. 

Erestor is left still standing there. His dark hair, black as any night, ruffles delicately in the subtle breeze. His sharp features follow Lindir’s exit, his striking eyes thin but powerful, his lashes thick and dark. His bow lips are drawn into a frown that Glorfindel desperately wants to soothe. Upon Erestor’s head is a crown of flowers, woven with emerald leaves and many different colours. Then he finally turns, and his eyes catch on Glorfindel’s. 

For once in his life, Glorfindel is speechless. Erestor’s attractive features are wholly unique, unlike anything Glorfindel has scene before, either in his fallen city or in Mandos’ Halls. He knows at once what’s happened—the Valar, in their infinite wisdom, have made it clear to him where his heart should go. Perhaps this is even why they returned him to the planes of Middle Earth: to become complete in the arms of one who would share his soul. 

But Erestor seems to deem Glorfindel uninteresting, and he turns, walking gracefully away.

Glorfindel only takes one more second to suck in breath, and then he races after.


End file.
